


Until We Meet Again

by vidnyia



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: 1850s, Ballroom Dancing, Forbidden Love, Kissing, M/M, Period Typical Attitudes, This fic is for valentines day, also this is probably the most romantic thing i've ever written, it's set in russia but it doesn't really matter, just imagine a palace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:53:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29429118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vidnyia/pseuds/vidnyia
Summary: "But in another life, my darling," Jean whispered, his lips brushing over Armin's ear as he spoke, "or if this one went the way I wanted it to - I would be there always. And you would wish you sent me far away because I know if I followed you once nobody could pry me from your love ever again.""Kiss me, now, then," Armin murmured in return, his eyes shining with tears, "for all those lovers in another life who have what we cannot. Give me something other than words to remember you by."
Relationships: Armin Arlert/Jean Kirstein
Comments: 9
Kudos: 65





	Until We Meet Again

**Author's Note:**

> hi all! this is a fic i wrote for valentine's day. it was a real uphill battle to get it done but i'm happy with how it turned out :) in the end it was fun to write something more challenging!
> 
> happy valentine's!

The ballroom was large and full of couples, a picture of prosperity. The celebration of a royal engagement was an excuse for an evening of indulgence - state affairs always had an extravagance to them, and this was no exception. Every expense had been paid to impress all the foreign diplomats and nobles who had travelled for miles to attend. Jean had many things to say about the country he was so privileged to serve - few of them good - but even he had to admit that there was nothing quite like nights like these in all their wealth and splendour. The food was fine, the women beautiful, and the music the best the country had to offer, though nothing about the evening compelled Jean - nothing but one man, a prominent foreign linguist by the name of Armin Arlert. 

The two men had first made acquaintance years before, at a dinner Jean had attended in Armin’s home country, a neighbouring state with close ties. They had been barely on the cusp of adulthood then, and though Jean was aware of his preferences he had never understood how truly deep his fascination with the same sex could go. Something special was born from the moment they met, something beautiful wrapped in deceit and secrecy. They were lovers from that night onwards and Jean never turned back or questioned his choice. 

Whilst dancing in the arms of others, their eyes met across the room. Jean was dancing out of obligation with a woman of the court he had no interest in, but as soon as he caught a glimpse of that familiar face a chill ran down his spine, and he felt cold as if he were still standing out in the snow and not this wall-warmed ballroom. It had been over a year since the last time they saw each other - cruel circumstances allowed them to meet only at such lavish celebrations as this, and in the months that stretched on between their meetings, letters were all they had. 

Armin looked different. In the glimpses he caught whilst dancing with his partner, Jean made out features of Armin that weren’t there the last time - he was a little thinner, a little sharper, a little sadder. Gone, it seemed, were his youthful eyes and boyish smile, the fat on his cheeks, the way he wore his hair long. He was taller now, and he danced elegantly, leading his partner around the floor just as Jean did. Oh, he used to be so clumsy, too studious to have rhythm, but as people did, Armin had changed. 

A short while later, after Jean had danced twice more, he made a brief excuse and swiftly left, following the path back to his room. The hallways were long and lavish, lined with portraits in ornate, expensive frames. Jean felt as if they were watching him, judging him, those eyes of the important men that came before, but he didn’t care. All he wanted was to make his way to his lover, and when he was sure he wasn’t being followed, Jean diverted, heading quickly to the predetermined location he had given to Armin in his last letter.

Jean knew this palace well, and he knew Armin would love no place more than the spot he had chosen for their secret meeting. The indoor gardens were a display of beauty, wealth, and luxury. Grand statues, lush plants, running water… all enclosed by a beautifully detailed glass roof. Some trees grew taller than Jean twice over; even the walls were detailed with greenery. A winding path made its way through it all, leading guests through the beauty. It was part of his country’s pride and he knew it well. It was quiet inside, perfectly ambient, just the atmosphere Jean wanted. All of that opulence was nothing, though, when compared to the sight of Armin looking up at it all with a wistful smile on his face. It was like that old light was back in his eyes, and Jean spent a second admiring him, taking off his gloves before making his presence known. 

“Well, I’d never expected to see you here.”

“Jean!” Armin exclaimed, turning around to greet him with a beaming smile. The soft blue colour of his tailcoat brought out the colour of his eyes, the fit perfectly accentuating his narrow waist and shoulders that were broader than Jean remembered. It felt to Jean like the entire world had paused and they were the only two in it. Taking a step forward, he pulled Armin in for a tight hug, breathing in his scent. It hit him, a wave of nostalgia that made his stomach tight, and he wondered how he could have ever forgotten how Armin smelled or how he felt wrapped up in his arms. They stayed like that for a few moments, just taking it in, experiencing. Neither wanted to be the one to pull away first, but eventually, Jean did. 

“We’re alone,” he murmured, still so close that his lips brushed Armin’s cheek as he spoke. He felt his lover shiver against him, and it filled Jean’s stomach with heat.

“At long last,” Armin replied. His voice was more like a whisper, barely audible. 

“How long has it been?”

“A year and three months.”

“Mm,” Jean hummed. “I knew you would remember.”

“You did not?”

“Of course I did. To the day,” Jean smiled, then pulled back a little more. He looked at him, his sharper jawline, his sadder eyes, and felt the pain of his longing one thousand times over. 

“You look very handsome,” Armin whispered. He lay his hand on Jean’s crisp white shirt, toying with the buttons right above his waistcoat. 

“Oh, I could say the same.” 

“You flatter me.”

“No,” Jean teased, leaning in, “I tell you exactly what you deserve to hear, my love.”

“Jean…”

“Yes?”

“Are you going to make me wait any longer for your kiss?”

Jean smiled wider, then, and without hesitation, he leaned in close and pressed his lips to Armin’s. All the sounds of music and laughter from the ballroom faded away into the background like the trickling of water from the fountains. At that moment, all that existed was Armin, the soft touch of his lips; the way his hair, so smooth, felt between Jean’s fingers; and how he pulled him closer, the heat between them increasing with their bodies flush against each other. Breathless, Jean deepened the kiss, holding Armin’s face in his hands, a feeling he couldn’t name burning up in his chest, making him want to do reckless things he knew he shouldn’t. The idea of running away together was far too tempting when they finally got to taste each other’s company.

Before he went too far and started undressing him, Jean pulled back from Armin, his heart racing, face flushed and sweaty despite the February cold. 

“We should restrain ourselves,” he panted, though every instinct he had just told Jean to kiss Armin again. 

“I restrain myself too often - every day, it’s all restraint! Let me have this one night with you to risk everything,” Armin urged. He was shaking, his eyes bright. “ _ Please _ , Jean.”

There was no way Jean could resist him. He took Armin’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting his face up to meet him. That look in Armin’s eyes stole all the air in Jean’s lungs, so earnest, so honest, so in  _ love _ , and it was all for him. Armin didn’t move. 

“You’re even more beautiful than I remember,” Jean murmured, caressing his cheek. “When I picture you I am always sure I must be exaggerating, but still you exceed my fantasies.”

“Don’t say things like that, Jean…”

“Why? Should I not tell the truth…?”

“Ah… it’s not that, it’s just-”

Knowing he was about to say something self-deprecating, Jean cut Armin off with a kiss, one that fueled the fire burning in his gut. All he wanted was to lose himself in the moment and have something perfect to look back on during those lonely nights in his future, but it was hard to get out of his head. There was always the fear of discovery amongst all the other emotions, too hard to drown out completely. 

“Come with me,” Jean urged, taking Armin’s hand and leading him deeper through the indoor gardens, so they were at least obscured from immediate view upon walking in. 

“It’s so… beautiful here,” Armin said. 

“I thought you would like it.”

“You know me well, then.”

“I’d hope so,” Jean murmured, leading Armin over to a marble bench with just enough room for them both. They sat together, and Jean took both of Armin’s hands in his own. “We ought to be able to remain somewhat hidden here…”

“You don’t think we are in any danger of discovery, do you?”

“It’s best to be careful.”

“This,” Armin said, bringing Jean’s hand to his lips and kissing it quickly, “is anything but careful, my love.”

They smiled at each other, and Jean felt hit again by a wave of emotion. 

“How have you been?” he asked softly. 

“The same as I told you in my letters,” Armin replied. “Busy, most of the time… and lonely all the rest.”

“I understand. It always feels worse the closer we are to meeting…”

“But never as awful as those nights right after.”

“What do you do? When the longing is at its worst?”

“I write to you,” Armin whispered, “when I ache for you, Jean, and have only words. I write to you, about you… and I imagine all the things I want to do. Really, it doesn’t help at all; it just hurts. It hurts because those words, they paint such a vivid picture, but a picture is all it is.”

“Maybe so,” Jean murmured back, tucking a piece of Armin’s hair behind his ear. “But not right now.”

“No, you’re right. Not right now - but tomorrow, and all the days after that.”

“You regret this, then? Do you wish we had never met?”

“But I don’t,” Armin said, looking up, his voice hushed but his eyes as earnest as they ever were. “I can’t bring myself to regret anything. Even when this is all we’ll ever have together. It’s so… it’s so - so  _ sad,  _ but so wonderful.”

“Perhaps if I were a kinder man, I’d make you hate me.”

“You couldn’t if you tried.”

Jean smiled, pulled Armin closer, and held him, just sitting there together. Armin was so  _ near _ , and he was warm, everything opposite of what he was used to in quiet moments. He always tried to put his pain aside for later, avoiding that bleak loneliness until he could do nothing but feel it in awful, overwhelming waves of sadness, wishing he was with his lover. Jean never wanted to feel that way again, especially not now when he had the joy of Armin being there in his arms for the first time in too long. 

“How can you ever expect me to leave you again?” Jean asked, just looking at his face, taking in each detail for lonely nights yet to come. 

“You will.”

They were quiet. The water trickled down from the fountains; above them, snow fell onto the glass roof. 

“Not by choice. I have to…”

“I know. I must leave you, too. Even if it hurts…”

"It hurts, I know. But in another life, my darling," Jean whispered, his lips brushing over Armin's ear as he spoke, "or if this one went the way I wanted it to - I would be there always. And I would replace all these words we write back and forth with actions. When you cry I would brush your tears away, rather than your thoughts of me which only spur them on. I would kiss you every second you let me… and you'd wish you sent me far away because I know if I followed you once nobody could pry me from your love ever again."

"Kiss me, now, then," Armin murmured in return, his eyes shining with tears, "for all those lovers in another life who have what we cannot. Give me something other than words to remember you by." 

"Come here, then." 

"Mm... of course.”

It was soft, like Armin was declaring his love all over again, but without a word - Jean could feel it in the way they kissed, gentle and slow, savouring each second to remember. If he wasn’t so practised in concealing all he felt, there was no doubt he would be crying, just like Armin - he brushed his tears away before they fell, and kissed him harder. There was no need for words. They did not need to say ‘ _ I love you’, _ for instead, they could feel it, show it. The emptiness that accompanied Jean whilst reading and writing his letters was gone, that space in his heart filled by the sensation of Armin’s kiss. 

“I cannot help but hate my imagination,” Armin smiled sadly once they broke apart. Their foreheads were still touching. 

“Why is that?”

“When I am alone, and I think of you, and I remember with such fondness all these nights we have stolen together over the years… the limitlessness of all I can imagine only serves to remind me of all the things I cannot experience. All the things lovers do that we cannot - impossible things.”

“Tell me, then. Tell me these impossible scenarios… I’ll give you as many as I can tonight.”

Armin blinked as if he were trying to hold back tears. 

“Dance with me. Like you dance with those women. Hold me that way, and let me imagine what it might be like to show our love to the world.”

“We can hardly hear the music,” Jean chuckled. 

“That does not matter,” Armin replied. “I just want to dance, Jean… will you give me that?”

“Of course I will,” Jean said, and he stood up, making an offer to him as he would to a lady. Armin held out his hand and Jean took it, bringing it to his lips, maintaining eye contact as he kissed him. They looked at each other and couldn’t help but laugh, joy bubbling up in their chests, though when Jean took Armin by the waist, that feeling quickly turned into something far more sensual and intense. He held him closer than what was customary in any ballroom. 

“Holding me like this,” Armin smiled. “You have some nerve, Mr Kirstein… don’t you think people will talk?”

“Let them,” Jean replied, playing along. “Now. Shall we?” 

Their dance was slow at first as they got a feel for it together. With Armin so close, Jean began to understand why dancing was so adored - until now, he’d never had the pleasure of doing it with someone he loved so very much. Though there was no real music, no ballroom, no other couples to dance beside, it was magical, like they were floating. Though neither of them had ever been particularly graceful by nature, moving together came naturally, as if they were made for it. And that  _ look, _ that smile on Armin’s face that lit up his pretty blue eyes… it was more than enough to make Jean the fondest dancer in the world. 

“I love you,” Jean spoke softly, still moving with him. He meant it more than anything he’d ever said; looking at Armin like this as they danced brought out the deepest truths from him. 

“And I love  _ you _ ,” Armin replied. A tear slipped down his cheek that Jean couldn’t brush away. Armin moved closer, then, resting his head against Jean’s chest. They swayed, barely moving. “I don’t want this to end.”

“Neither do I,” Jean breathed. “I want to stay like this forever.”

“Why do I feel like when this dance ends, everything will be over?”

“We have the rest of the night, Armin…”

“I’m being irrational again, aren’t I?”

“I’m not sure there’s anything rational about our situation,” Jean smiled. “Yet here we are.”

“Yes,” Armin chuckled, more tears falling from his eyes. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

“Are you alright?”

“Of course I am, Jean. You’re here.”

“I am. And tonight, Armin, I’m not going anywhere. I’m yours,” Jean promised. “Now dance with me some more; I haven’t had my fill of you yet.”

“How forward of you,” Armin laughed, looking up at him again, his eyes so bright and happy that they gave no indication that soon the pair would part again. Jean kissed him briefly, though it was more like pressing a smile to his lips, and laughed too, joy bubbling up in his chest, so strong he couldn’t contain it. 

“I love you,” he said again. 

“And I love you.”

This time, Armin led the dance with his hand on Jean’s waist, and Jean let himself get swept away. If anyone were to stumble across them, their lives the way they knew them would be over, but it didn’t matter - Jean knew his true life was lived in these stolen moments. How could any noble position ever be worth more than the joy of dancing with his lover? There were no riches in the world that compared to his kiss. A future together was impossible - but these nights were not. 

Almost an hour passed before they grew tired and realised how much of the night they had already lost. It would have been easy to mourn the time as it ticked by, but Jean wanted to remember nothing but happiness when he looked back on his evening with Armin, so he locked away his sadness, knowing he’d have months and months to grieve the loss of him when they were parted. 

Out of breath, they sat back down together. Jean put his arm around Armin’s shoulders, pulled him close, and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. 

“I know you are about to say we should head back to our rooms,” Armin said. He had always known Jean better than he knew himself. 

“It’s true.”

“Just a half-hour more?”

“You know I can’t say no to you…”

“Well, in that case, I’ll ask if we can stay all night.”

Jean laughed softly and just pulled him closer. “We’ll surely get caught then.”

“Maybe we ought to. Maybe it would be worth it.”

“If we were allowed to be together, it would be,” Jean murmured. “But you know the world is too cruel for that.”

“It was beautiful enough to let me find you.”

“We’re lucky, Armin.” Jean kissed him again, not wanting to ever pull away from his lips. 

“We are.” 

“So let’s make the most of this… and wait for each other until we meet again.” 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading :) as always follow me on twitter @vidnyia for more jearmin content!


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